USUK Fluff-Always There When You Need Comfort
by hokies1114
Summary: Well, it's basically what the title says. I ship FrUk, but this was written as an Easter gift for a friend, so...here is some UsUk fluff! Btw it's a one shot so (unless you want more) I won't be posting on this. Just tell me in the reviews if you want me to turn it into a chapter fanfiction. Hasta la pasta!


Always There Whenever You Need Comfort

England sat on the hard chair, right leg crossed over his left knee as he read the newspaper. He was reading a depressing story of a young boy who had fallen overboard on a boat in the Bahamas. He was so engrossed in the story that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him as his boyfriend of seven months looked over his shoulder at the story.  
"Is that the story of Cameron Smook?" America asked quietly, saddened at the thought of what had happened to one of his citizens.  
"Bloody he-America! You scared me," England stuttered, jumping out of the chair a bit. "Oh, and yes, it's the story about the boy, Cameron," England added quietly. He knew how much America took things like this to heart. Most nations do, too, but America is so young. He hasn't had enough time to figure out a way to cope with most of the bad things that happen to his citizens and his country. Like during 9/11, America was there, trying to help as many people as he could. After both towers collapsed, and they got a casualty count, he wouldn't come out of his room for at least a month and a half. Maybe longer. It was a terrible experience.  
England just drinks when something saddening happens. America can't drink legally yet, unless he is in Europe. England wouldn't let him drink too much, maybe one bottle of beer, or a shot or two, but nothing that would get him anywhere near drunk. He worries that America would fall behind him on the path of drinking. Sure, it helps you cope, but it's not necessarily the right way to cope.  
"Iggy? Dude, are you okay?" America's voice draws him from his thoughts. "England?"  
"S-Sorry, I just...was thinking, um, about something." England silently cursed himself for his lame excuse for an excuse. America didn't question it, though. He could see the solemn look in England's eyes, although England could mask his sadness on the rest of his face.  
"Okay," America said quickly. "Hey, do you want to go out? I heard that Lès Miserables is playing on Broadway tonight at 10."  
England was taken aback. America? Interested in going to a musical? Maybe seven months of dating him had been influencing.  
"I'd love to go. Gosh, I haven't seem Lès Mis since...what was it? Two years ago? And even then it was just the movie." England said excitedly, standing up and placing the newspaper on the table, the story of Cameron Smook facing down on the table.  
"Good, because I bought tickets last week," America says, laughing lightly, the sad moment behind them. England smiled and hugged him, kissing him on the cheek. America wrapped his arm around England's waist, turning his head to catch his lips on England's. When they pulled back, America whispered a light "I love you" before letting go of England. Though they shared those words often, they still caused England's heart to warm each time.

~time skip brought to you by an angry Roma~

England sat, waiting for America to come back from the bathroom during the intermission. How long had it been? 10 minutes? The intermission was almost over, and England kept nervously looking behind his shoulder at the open door. Five minutes later and the play was beginning again, the seat next to England still empty. Now England was really starting to worry. Maybe there was a long line at the bathroom? Knowing America, he stopped to buy food and wasn't allowed to bring it in the theatre, so he has to stay out there until he finishes it. Yeah, probably. England tried not to think of how America could down an entire burger and a drink in seconds. After 10 more minutes, England quietly got up and walked up the aisle, walking back out into the lobby. He didn't have to even scan the room to know that America wasn't there. Nobody but the woman at the security desk was. He walked up to the woman sitting at the security desk, who was currently looking at something on her computer.  
"Excuse me, ma'am?" England tentatively asked, shuffling his feet.  
"Yes?" The woman asked, looking up from her monitor. The nametag she wore told him that her name was Barrett.  
"Um...have you, uh, seen anyone here recently? I mean, after the intermission finished?"  
"No, why? Did something happen?" She asked, blue scanning over England's face.  
"Well, I'm not entirely sure myself. My...friend and I were watching the play together and he went to the restroom during intermission and it's now been over half an hour since he left. I'm probably just overreacting," England said, adding, "sorry to have bothered you." He moved to turn away, but Barrett stopped him with, "wait, sir! I can check the security cameras, if you would like." England turned back around, eyeing her.  
"A-Are you sure that it isn't too troublesome?" He questioned, not interested in whether or not it would be going out of her way to check the security cameras. He was worried that she thought it was serious enough to need to check the cameras. She probably just wants to give him peace of mind. Yeah.  
"No, it's fine. I was checking the cameras anyway, because intermission just happened. We are always supposed to check after intermission. So, what did your friend look like?"  
"Well, he is blond and has blue eyes and wears glasses. He should be wearing a leather jacket, and I believe that his trousers were a mustard yellow color."  
"Okay," Barrett said, clicking on something with her mouse. They both sat in silence for a few moments, then Barrett clicked on her mouse. "Is that him?" She asked England, motioning for him to come around the desk to look at the screen. When England looked the screen, the first person he saw was his love, who was standing near the door of the Broadway Theatre. It looked as if he was walking out, and when Barrett clicked Play on the film, America walked right through the door, seemingly following some couple that was right in front of him. A few more minutes of watching footage on time-lapse showed that he hadn't walked back in. The color drained from England's face as he turned around so as not to show the tears welling up in his eyes.  
"W-Well, I better get going," England said, worrying about what happened to America. Worrying about where he was. Worrying about what made him walk away without telling England.  
"Okay. Good lu-" Barrett was cut off by a loud crash as the door opened. England turned to find a winded America running towards them.  
"Amer-I-I mean, Alfred!" England exclaimed as America slowed to a stop. England ran to him, wrapping his arms around him, kissing him full on the mouth before showering him with questions.  
"Where the hell were you? I was worried sick! Why did you leave? What were you doing?" England frantically asked, looking at America. He was happy, annoyed, and relieved at the same time.  
America was panting, obviously having run quite a distance. Or maybe he was just running really fast, as he had been when he bursted through the door. When America caught his breath enough to speak, he began to explain. "Okay, so this dude asked me to take a picture of him and his girlfriend outside of the theatre, so I followed them out and he handed me his camera. Well, I took a few pictures and when I was about to hand him the camera back, the girl lunged at me and grabbed, no, ripped my wallet out of my pocket, then the guy jumped on me, trying to distract me as that girl ran away. Well, I punched the guy, probably knocking him out, and chased the girl 10 blocks before she turned down some alley. I followed her and kept chasing her until she turned onto 3rd Avenue. Finally, I shouted to some guy who was on the sidewalk and told him to stop her. He stood in front of her, and she almost managed to dodge him, but he stopped her and I took my wallet. She thrashed around, his arms hooked around her elbows. He was one of the only people out, I mean, its 12 in the morning, and I didn't do anything before turning to run back here. I got lost, which is why it took a lot longer than it should have, because I started running and turned on 42nd street when I should have turned onto 45th." He finally finished explaining, and England let out an "ooh" and hugged him again.  
"Well, I-I'm just glad that you're okay. Anything hurt, Al?" England said, pulling back again. He felt eyes on him, and turned, remembering Barrett.  
"No. I am a hero, after all. It takes a lot to harm a hero, you know," he winked, smiling.  
"Yeah, it does take a lot to hurt Alfred Jones," England said, turning back to America and laughing lightly.  
"A-Alfred Jones? Wait, are you...oh, never mind," Barrett said, blushing.  
"Am I what?" America asked a bit nervously. He hated being noticed out in public...  
"Never mind. I just knew an Alfred Jones growing up," Barrett explained. "That name is probably pretty common. I mean, how much more American can you get with Jones as your last name?" She joked, looking at the two. Something was tugging at the back of her mind, although she couldn't tell exactly what it was. A small bit of information, one that was very important to know around these two men, and many others.

"Well, I think that we should call it a night, Iggy," America said, looking at England for consent. He nodded, muttering, "don't call me that in public."

"Goodnight. It was, uh, nice meeting you, I guess," Barrett said as they walked out of the theatre. The man that America had punched was nowhere in sight, although he would nervously glance around every few minutes. It was understandable. He _had_ just been mugged, after all.

~yay another time skip! This one is brought by the students attending the World Academy~

Later that night, as America pulled the covers back to get in bed next to England, his anxiety creeps up on him. He looks at England's sleeping figure, or at least he _thought_ that he was sleeping, worrying about what would have happened had it been him. _You don't need to worry about that. It wasn't him, and that's all that matters. _Even still, America worries for England. His mind, tired, struggles to fend off the thoughts and scenarios that creep into his head. England, getting jumped by the same people without America there to protect him. England, getting hurt when he flies back home to his country in four weeks. Anything even remotely bad that you can think of, America worries over. He doesn't notice that tears were silently streaming down his face until England moves his arm towards him, wiping them away with the pad of his thumb.

"America, don't worry about what happened. If you do worry, talk to me. I'm always there whenever you need comfort."


End file.
